


Personal Space

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: AbbieMillsIsWorkingIt, F/M, IchabbieWeekend, very much canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:45:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were certain things one learned and could never unlearn when living with someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Space

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *starts writing a super serious fic*  
> Fic Muse: Fuck canon and plot. Can't they just get it on for no fucking reason?  
> Me: ... *shrugs* sure why not.

_If I could have a cup of coffee magically waiting at my bedside in the morning, my life would be perfect..._

Abbie had made the comment once, in their earliest days of their partnership. She had barely muttered it so she wasn't even sure how he had heard it in order to commit it to his eidetic memory. Yet the first thing she had woke up to after moving him into her house was the smell of coffee. A cup was sitting next to her alarm clock, a little post-it note proclaiming 'black, six heaping spoons of sugar.'

Damn. He had even notice how many spoons of sugar she would dump into her coffee.

She was just glad she had been too tired to change into her bed clothes the night before otherwise he would have gotten an eyeful of things he didn't want to see when he had brought it in. Abbie made a mental note to talk to him about a thing called 'personal space.'

  
#  


She 'forgot' to talk to him about personal space. Mostly because she had caught him eyeballing her lingerie.

  
#  


Every morning she had coffee waiting.

She still hadn't talked to him about personal space. 

Mostly because the morning coffee made him feel like he was helping her—and he was, damn he had no idea how much easier it had been to crawl out of bed in the mornings since he moved in. After a few weeks she didn't really think about it because she was always huddled under her blankets in the morning, concealed from sight.

But the misfortune of the central unit freezing up, leaving the house hot as hell had driven Abbie to keeping cool in her sleep the old fashioned way. Windows open. Stark naked. 

She awoke to the sound of her coffee mug hitting the floor with crash. When she lifted her head, Ichabod was frozen like a deer in the headlights. He was partially bent towards her clock, as though he had looked her way in the middle of putting down her coffee and saw something that star—oh.

Abbie yanked her sheet over her body, her face burning. She clamoured to hit the snooze button on her clock as her alarm started blaring. Eyes still wide, Ichabod muttered apologies repeatedly as he knelt down. He kept his head diverted toward the broken ceramic on the floor as he carefully plucked up the pieces. 

He looked back toward her once he had the broken mug in his hands. His pupils were blown wide as he stared at her, transfixed, lips softly parted. He tried to form words then squeezed his eyes shut and looked away again. After muttering one last apology, he promised to finish cleaning up the mess once she was 'presentable' and said he would bring her a fresh cup of coffee immediately.

Abbie reached out and caught his wrist when he clamoured to his feet. “Hey,” she said carefully. “It's okay... we're living together, something like this was bound to happen eventually.”

He nodded mutely and dashed from the room quickly. It wasn't until he was out of the room, Abbie started pondering the ramifications of the fact he had just seen her naked and had an eidetic memory.

She made another mental note to talk to him about personal space.

Instead of waking up to fresh coffee every morning after that, she awoke to his gentle knock at her door as her alarm went off.

  
#  


She forgot again. It wasn't intentional! She had so much going on that it just sort of got put somewhere near the bottom of her priority list.

  
#  


Ichabod's eyes were wide as he stared at her in horror. Abbie's mouth was hanging open, the fingers on one hand still resting on the knob of the bathroom door, the other hand holding the stack of fresh towels she had been bringing to the guest bathroom closet. He had gotten in the shower nearly 45 minutes earlier so she had thought he would be done and on his way to the Archives. And she had in headphones with music blaring so she hadn't heard the shower still running.

Boy had she walked in on a surprise. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she made a mental note to get an actual curtain for the shower to accompany the clear liner. Maybe next time she wouldn't be caught by surprise at a naked Ichabod in the shower... pleasuring himself.

He wouldn't look at her afterwards when they were playing a game of chess. 

“Look, there's no reason to be ashamed,” Abbie stated, capturing his knight. “It's not as taboo as it was in your day. It's perfectly natural.”

His eyes widened and he stared blankly at the chess board in a way that silently begged her to stop talking.

“Just saying,” Abbie continued. “Men and women both do that kind of thing... Even _I_ do it.”

He looked at her and swallowed hard. There seemed to be a question at the tip of his tongue. She was pretty sure if she could look inside of his head, his brain would be imploding. Instead he said, “I... I am feeling a bit of a headache coming on, Lieutenant. I think perhaps I should retire for the evening.”

Abbie nodded lightly and he shot out of the room like hordes of demons were chasing him. And she could say that, having actually seen him try to outrun demons. It was about fifteen minutes later she realized she had probably made him incredibly uncomfortable. Despite the fact she knew he was from an entirely different era and that he was slowly starting to acculturate, there were some people that just did not like talking about that kind of thing.

Maybe she needed to sit down with herself and have a talk about personal boundaries.

  
#  


There were certain things one learned and could never unlearn when living with someone.

Oh there were the fun things like the anal retentive way Ichabod lined up coffee cups in the cabinet, every handle tucked close to the cup in front of it so another could fit next to it with ease. The way he _folded_ his stockings and socks instead of making a sloppy little ball like a normal person. Then there was debating the idea of buying ten pound bags of sugar every week because he liked to have cornflakes and milk with his bowl of sugar on Tuesday and Thursday.

There was also the annoying things like... how she would come in from work and find all her shampoos and soaps had been organized by bottle shape and height. And that the spice cabinet was perfectly alphabetized (not so bad if she needed all-spice but annoying as hell if she needed thyme). Although it was weird to discover her bookshelves had been organized by Author and every book by said author was in order by release date.

One thing Abbie had ~~always~~ never wanted to know was how vocal he could be. Oh, she knew he was a motor mouth. Hell if they lived in Georgia, she'd probably call him The Mouth of the South. No, what she meant was how loud his moans were late at night when she tiptoed downstairs for a midnight drink of milk. And she could tell the moans were not nightmares. Oh no, there was no doubting what _those_ moans were, even when muffled by a wall.

She could have lived her life never knowing how loud he got just before he reached orgasm and retained some sanity. And that he swore profusely when doing so. “Oh my darling Abigail...”

Abbie froze, milk carton at her lips at the sound of his muffled voice groaning her name as he reached completion. She quickly chugged the last of the milk, put the carton back in the refrigerator, and hauled ass toward the stairs. Unfortunately she tripped over a chair and made enough noise that, a moment later, the light in the kitchen clicked on and a wide eyed Ichabod was standing in the laundry room doorway in his robe—welding an umbrella like a sword.

When he realized Abbie's state, he placed the umbrella on the island and rushed over to help her to her feet. At first he started to offer his right hand, then seemed to think better of it and offered his left. Abbie took his hand and he pulled her to her feet with ease.

His face was still tinged a soft pink from his previous activities.

“Sorry for waking you,” Abbie said quietly. “I was trying to sneak down for something to drink and didn't turn on the light... didn't see the table.” 

“You did not wake me, Lieutenant,” he said kindly. “I was awake. Reading.” He looked away and righted the chair she had tripped over. “Yes... reading. A book.”

“Just what the hell did you think you would be able to fight off with an umbrella?” Abbie teased.

He blushed lightly and gave her a bashful smile. “A rain demon, perhaps?” he shot back with a flirtatious tone. Ichabod's eyes slowly roamed over her form. “Your leg is bleeding...” he muttered and quickly dashed to the sink to wash his hands.

Abbie squeaked softly when she looked down to see the chair had, in fact, shanked her in the leg and a streak of blood was trailing down from her thigh. “The first aid kit is in the cabinet next to the fridge,” she offered.

Once his hands were clean, Ichabod placed the first aid kit on the counter and hurried over to her. Abbie's eyes widened when he grasped her waist and hoisted her up onto the counter next to the kit, then knelt at her feet. He opened the case before she could even think to take it from him to see to her injury herself. Because, to be honest, she could easily tend it herself. Not to mention, she didn't know if she'd be able to control herself, considering what she had just overheard. However she did absolutely nothing to stop him once he started delicately cleaning the wound and the trail of blood down her leg.

It didn't help matters, _at all_ when his big hand rested on her inner thigh, framing her injury while he disinfected it. Maybe he was taking his time a little too much and his hand definitely hadn't needed to creep further up her thigh when he reached for the anti-bacterial packet.

“Oh God,” had slipped between her lips in a low moan before she could contain it. When she looked at Ichabod, he was stock-still between her legs, hand still on her thigh, his eyes practically smoldering. Abbie shook her head to clear it. “The... disinfectant... it... stings.”

He carefully unwrapped a band-aid after he applied the anti-bacterial cream to her wound. Abbie tried not to think about how _intimate_ it felt when he covered the cut with the band-aid and lightly pressed it down to keep it in place.

“Not going to kiss it better too?” Abbie joked, then bit her bottom lip when Ichabod smirked up at her. What had she just done? She had just given him an open invitation to put his face between her legs is what she had done. Maybe he wouldn't—he did.

Not letting his eyes break contact with hers, he slid a hand under her thigh and leaned in to place a kiss about an inch below the injury and about an inch above it. “There is some bruising arising,” he said by way of explanation, then placed a kiss atop the band-aid.

Abbie head fell back and she put a hand on the back of his head, her fingers curling into his hair. Both of his hands were on her thighs at that point, gliding under them and then up the outside of them to disappear into her silky shorts. He placed soft kisses on both of her inner thighs and she wanted to call him a damn liar when he muttered something about more bruises. She knew for a fact there were no bruises on the scrap of silk spanned over the part of her she really wanted his mouth to be.

Her fingers tightened in the thick locks between them and she yanked hard when his teeth grazed her flesh. She swore loudly then groaned with frustration. “You know, its rude to get all up in someone's personal space for no reason.”

She wasn't entirely sure the dampness at her apex was completely due to his tongue laving the silk.

“Far be it for me to be rude,” Ichabod murmured sexily. He pulled back just enough that he could pull his hands out of the legs of her shorts and work the elastic band between the flesh of her backside and the granite. The shorts went flying over his shoulder to an unknown destination.

Abbie felt her face warm. If she had known this would be happening, she might have taken a minute to tidy things up a bit in the area he was currently focused on. He moistened his lips and dove right back into his task without a second thought. _Okay, so he didn't care about things being tidy_.

It wasn't long before tidiness was the furthest thing from her mind too because she had better things to occupy her attention. Like trying to escape the grip he had on her hips, trying to keep her still while he devoured her like a starving man having his last meal on earth. Her hands grappled at his head, not entirely sure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

She was vaguely aware of the clatter of the first-aid kit and umbrella hitting the floor as she shoved them out of the way to grip the edges of the counter. It felt like the root of her existence was twisting and swirling toward the warm lips gently suckling her clit. Then her body was trembling, she was sobbing 'oh my god' over and over again. He continued, unrelenting.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she came with a loud cry. Abbie felt boneless. Actually she felt like she may never again be in possession of a physical form. She felt like her soul had just said, 'I can't take this any more. Peace out' and fluttered away to the nethersphere, never to return.

Fortunately she did start to finally come down from her post-coital haze. Ichabod's grip on her hips had gone slack and he was softly lapping at her core. After a moment, he lifted his head and licked his lips. Abbie could only lay on the counter, unable to move, other than the soft spasms which were still occasionally firing through her.

He gazed at her with a warm affection in his eyes as he slowly climbed to his feet. When Ichabod spoke again, his voice was smooth as silk. “I do hope you can forgive my invasion into your personal space, Lieutenant.”

His eyes glimmered mischievously and he scuttled back through the laundry room door to return to his room. It took Abbie's brain a moment to catch up. She pushed herself into a sitting position and slowly glared in the direction his had disappeared. When she slipped off of the counter, her legs wobbled under her for a moment and then she marched to his room.

He was lounging casually on his bed, as though he had been awaiting her following him. “I'll _show_ your ass an invasion of personal space...” she growled, shutting his bedroom door behind her.


End file.
